


Masks of Morality

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Manipulative Peter, Peter-centric, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The terrible immoralities are the cunning ones hiding behind masks of morality, such as exploiting people while pretending to help them." The thing is, Peter's legit this time.  Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masks of Morality

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "cunning" from fullmoon-ficlet on LJ.

"Whatever you're planning, stop it."

Peter looked up from the book he was reading, seemingly unsurprised to see Stiles towering over him from his prone position in a lawn chair.

"Go on," Peter replied, slight smirk on his lips.

"Don't think we don't know you're watching and waiting. When we figure out why we'll put a stop to whatever you're doing," Stiles warned.

"Little Spark," Peter replied with a grin. "Are you sensing a disturbance in the force?"

Stiles pointed a finger at Peter. " _No_. Do _not_ bring _Star Wars_ into this."

Stiles stalked off to the rest of the group who were laughing and enjoying an impromptu barbecue spearheaded, surprisingly, by his dear nephew. Peter only tagged along because he had nothing better to do. And, much to his bitterness at even _thinking_ , being with pack was better than being without it. 

For that reason he was here purely as a spectator and not an instigator. But their resident Spark appeared to be permanently suspicious of him.

Peter shrugged mentally. Not for lack of good reasons, after all.

He watched Stiles from afar, watched how he flitted from person to person, chatting amicably while stealing Scott's tomato from his plate and telling a joke that made everyone laugh uproariously. Even Derek cracked a smile.

And also couldn't take his eyes off Stiles.

Interesting.

***

"You know," Peter said in a low tone as he walked up behind Stiles in Derek's kitchen a few days later. "I've heard the only way to get rid of a temptation is to give in to it."

"So we _should_ cover you in honey and leave you tied up in the desert for the critters?" Stiles replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Just saying," Peter shrugged.

"Just saying what?" Stiles asked, irritated.

Peter leaned in close, didn't touch, but obscured Stiles' body. "I see lots of things, Stiles. I'm often left to draw my own conclusions about people these days but generally they're often right."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Stiles asked at the exact moment Derek pulled Peter back and shoved him against the fridge.

"Get away from him, Peter. I don't even know why you're here," Derek snarled. Across the loft Scott looked up, proverbial hackles raised and Peter knew it would take mere seconds for him to be in ribbons on the floor.

He was treading on uneasy ground, indeed.

"Just trying to make conversation," Peter said, tone easy. He turned his head to Stiles. "See what I mean?"

Derek looked confused but backed off when Peter brushed him off and made for the door. He left without another word.

***

"Peter," Derek groaned when he rolled the loft door open and saw his uncle lounging on the couch.

"I might start developing a complex, the way you all greet me," Peter replied easily. He unfolded himself from the couch and crossed the floor slowly while Derek shrugged out of his jacket, keeping his eyes on his uncle.

"Can I help you?" Derek asked, one eyebrow raised while Peter fought to keep a smirk off his lips.

"I want to help you, Derek."

Derek snorted in response.

"Hear me out. I see you the closest to happy you've been in some time—" 

"No thanks to you," Derek cut in. Peter took a quiet breath and continued unabated.

"You need to go after what you want, things that catch your eye. You play the strong, silent type well but when that happens your confidence is silent, as well. You let your insecurities speak for you."

"Are you… listening to some kind of _tape_ at night, or something?" Derek asked, confused. "You sound like Tony Robbins."

"Just saying, if you need a spark to help you along—"

"This is about Stiles," Derek cut in flatly. Apparently Peter wasn't as subtle as he thought. Derek crossed his arms. "Get out."

"I can't help noticing—"

Derek grabbed Peter around the shoulders and shoved him to the door and out, manhandling him to the hallway, pulling the door closed and locking it behind him.

_Like that ever stopped me before_ , Peter thought but he left all the same.

***

By happy accident, or something akin to it, a wayward relation of the cherufe happened into the area and started leaving small fires in its wake. The pack grouped together and tracked it to a few blocks of warehouses, not far from Derek's loft. 

It was lashing out from fear, the pack advanced intending for containment in the best case scenario. Neither side really communicated their feelings or intentions and the next thing everyone knew there was a fireball being thrown at Stiles, who was working on a spell to isolate its abilities.

As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he couldn't really say he jumped in the way to take the hit out of anything less than his conscience. Maybe a little guilt. He couldn't bring himself to think _out of the goodness of his heart_ because even Peter didn't believe that about himself.

But he did it and Stiles was safe and Derek was pulling him up from the ground, into an embrace and Peter could hear Derek whisper lame sweet nothings into Stiles' ear, even over the sound of his own pained snarling.

The cherufe-esque creature went down, bound and shipped back to South America with Deaton's help.

Stiles even begrudgingly thanked Peter for saving him in the heat of the moment.

Peter just smirked and stared at Stiles' hand where it was interlaced with Derek's.

Derek and Stiles rolled their eyes and left him to recuperate in Derek's bed.

Pity. 

They were really just leaving him to work on his _actual_ plan now that his two watchdogs were occupied.

_Suckers._


End file.
